Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)(52)

And you f*cking passed out while inside her.

I groaned.

Turning the lights off downstairs, I climbed the stairs with one heavy footfall after another.

I held the banister—which I never normally did—just to be on the safe side in case my brain decided tumbling to my demise would be worthwhile.

“I missed you,” a soft whisper sounded in the dark.

I stopped short, willing my eyes to acclimatize to the lack of light. That was another thing I noticed from this f*cking concussion. My eyes weren’t quick to adjust, remaining fuzzy on the outskirts despite my immense concentration.

Doctor Laine had said she saw no reason why my intelligence wouldn’t be the same as it was before—if I graced my body with enough time to do what it needed to do.

Only problem was, I had shit hanging over my head. My future was as complicated as a demolition building in a highly populated area. I only had eyes on one destruction but if I didn’t manage it closely, it could end up taking out entire blocks of innocents.

Cleo finally came into focus. I frowned at the way her knees were drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her shins. She looked lost, afraid, and uncertain.

I did that to her.

Squatting before her, I kept hold of the spindle of the banister. “What are you doing sitting on the stairs?”

“Waiting for you.”

My headache twinged. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

“Because I’m mad at you.”

I smiled. She was too damn cute pouting and pissed off. Tucking a cascade of hair over her shoulder, I trailed my fingertips along her cheekbone.

She shivered, sucking in a breath.

“Don’t be mad at me. I hate it when you’re angry.”

“Then don’t keep things from me.” She moved her face from my touch, her green eyes the only color in the darkness.

I sighed heavily. “I was only sparing you from the details. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“How about giving me those details so I can be prepared? Having you just black out while making love to me hasn’t exactly given you a gold star.”

I chuckled. “I didn’t know I was on a rating system.”

She pursed her lips.

Moving to sit beside her, I nudged her shoulder with mine. “Okay, you want to know? Fine. My brain is swollen. The doctor gave me some rules that I should’ve followed, but I didn’t.” I shrugged. “I paid the consequences. Simple as that.”

She turned to face me, her gaze sparkling with new sprung anger. “No, not simple as that. What else. You’re keeping something else from me. I want to know. Right now.”

What do you want to know?

The fact I will murder my own flesh and blood in a few days?

The fact I made a promise to hand my life over to a cause that I believe in completely but now feel as if it’s controlling me?

Or the fact that no matter what I do with my life, it’s never enough? That I always second-guess—think I could’ve done better—done more?

I massaged my temples. She doesn’t need to know any of that. “I’m having trouble with certain parts of my life.”

“Like what?”

“Like trading and mathematics,” I said quietly, knowing the moment I said it aloud, Cleo would pity me. But it was the easiest detail to give.

“Oh, God, Arthur.”

And there it was.

Fucking pity.

“But you’ve always relied on numbers.”

No shit.

“I know.” Forcing myself to sound optimistic, I said, “But the doctor assured me there’s no reason why it won’t come back, so … I’m not gonna dwell on it.”

Cleo didn’t respond.

Instead, she stood up and held out her hand. “Come on.”

Eyeing her cautiously, I stood up and placed my hand in hers. She was so tiny, so delicate, so breakable, yet strong enough to put up with me and my mess. And my life was a f*cking mess. With more on the horizon.

Her green eyes remained glossy and deep, but the pity I feared faded into conviction and courage.

My cock twitched, setting fire to every bruise and twinge.

Stop that.

No sex. No orgasm. No pleasure until I got this under control.

Closing the distance, her arms wrapped around me.

My heart clenched, then drowned in love for her.

I squeezed her close. Goddammit, it’d been a rough few days. All I wanted to do was slip inside her again, make her shatter, and then sleep. Preferably in that order.

But she wasn’t on the menu.

Her tiny fingers landed on my chest. “Remember when I first arrived? You tried to climb these stairs with that knife wound bleeding you dry and almost passed out on the first rung.”

I kissed the tip of her nose. “I was trying to run away from you.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

Her face fell. “Because you hated me.”

Christ, no.

“Wrong. It was because you made me feel something I never wanted to feel again. I wanted you—f*ck how I wanted you—but I hated that I wanted you, too.”

She inhaled hard. “Why?”

“Because by wanting you, I was being a traitor to your memory.” I held her away from me, staring into her eyes. “Guilt is as much a part of me as breathing. Every damn day I suffered with it, knowing I’d ruined us, your family, myself. Every time I craved company, I drowned in guilt because I couldn’t have you. I could never have the woman I loved because of what I’d done.”